Written by: loveinslowmotion on archive of our own

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"I still can't believe you're letting a guy stay with you," Selena marvelled as she finally got a firsthand look at Harry's takeover of the main room of Taylor's apartment. Most of his things were in the suitcase that sat at the end of his temporary bed, but his art materials had spread over the coffee table and across the floor in front of the windows. It was very obvious she was no longer alone.

They were having a girls' night while Harry was out at his Tuesday art class, giving them some time alone before Selena finally got to meet the guy who now shared her apartment; Taylor had picked her up after dropping Harry off. Both were excited, Taylor a little nervous over what Selena was going to think of him, but she was trying to ignore that.

"My mom thinks I need an intervention," Taylor said plainly, letting her eyes drift over the space that now screamed Harry.

"Has she spoken to him yet?"

"That's really not a conversation I'm eager for them to have."

Not that she didn't think that Harry was the kind of genuinely nice guy her parents would like, but Taylor knew her mom wasn't entirely convinced that welcoming him into her home without so much as a second thought was actually a good idea. She trusted Taylor's judgment, but she sensed that Taylor's generosity was also part guilt. "It could've been me!" she'd cried when last trying to explain herself, not listening when her mother told her that she didn't owe Harry anything.

Her mom was never going to be rude, but Taylor found it easier to keep their Skype sessions to when Harry wasn't around to be invited to join in.

"So I'm your tester then: if he passes me, he'll probably pass your mom," Selena reasoned, stepping over on bare feet to inspect the paper Harry had left out to dry earlier. "Wow, have you seen this?"

"Yep," Taylor answered as she crossed over to join her, picking up the paint palette he had abandoned beside it. She knew it wasn't exactly convenient for Harry just to get up and wash it in the sink, but she wished he wouldn't just leave wet paint lying around like that. One of these days a cat was going to step in it, and Taylor wasn't keen on the idea of scrubbing the floors to remove multicoloured pawprints before she got in trouble with the landlord.

"They're the ones in your room?"

"Yeah. He wanted some roses to practice with, so I brought some home for him. He's amazing, isn't he?"

They were looking over the watercolour Harry had done earlier in the day, a pretty little painting he had done in his sketchbook filled with thicker paper specially for the type of paint. It was delicate and impressive the way he had captured the pink Queen Elizabeth's she had arranged just for him. As soon as he had let her see it, she immediately wanted to bring home more bouquets for him to work with.

"You brought him flowers, you must be smitten," Selena teased with a friendly smile, setting the book back down on the floor as if they had never moved it at all. "Show me the ones he's done of you."

After taking the (mostly dry) palette and the cup of water with paintbrushes still in it just waiting to be tipped over, safely depositing them in the kitchen sink, Taylor found a loose sheet of paper with a charcoal sketch of her on it. She felt too tentative to show Selena anything that wasn't out in the open and therefore fair game, yet she knew his more detailed drawings were tucked away in sketchbooks. Maybe he'd volunteer to show her some later.

"Maybe I should find myself an artist boyfriend," Selena contemplated as she gazed over the quality sketch in her hands.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet, anyway."

They took peeks at other loose papers left around (Honestly, did he really think he could get away with leaving things around without one or both of the cats inevitably ruining things? One piece literally had a corner bitten off), trying their best not to move things too noticeably. Most were paintings of the plants around the apartment, a few from the books Harry had started looking through.

"Hey, is this you?"

Selena passed over a bit of card with a painting of a blonde girl, which sure, could've been her, only Taylor knew it couldn't possibly be.

"Um, no. He's never seen me naked before," Taylor insisted, handing back the picture of a topless woman that showed only from just below her breasts up to her nose. It was well done, but yeah, not her.

"The lips look a lot like yours," Selena still thought as she took another look.

"Well the boobs definitely aren't, I can promise you that."

The only one of them that had bumped into the other changing was Taylor, and she didn't think it really counted when she regularly saw Harry in just his underwear whenever he wanted a shower, anyway. She hadn't seen any more of him and he certainly not of her, and she figured it was likely to stay that way.

"Would you let him paint you like that?"

"What? No way! No."

"C'mon, Tay, you're gorgeous. Live a little."

"I'll live with my clothes on, thanks. Why don't you sit for him, if you like the idea so much?"

"Maybe," Selena said, though Taylor knew she didn't mean it. Sure, she was more confident in her appearance, but Taylor knew she wouldn't make any kind of move like that that would make her uncomfortable. Friends didn't take their clothes off for people the other maybe liked.

Taylor had never admitted it, but yeah, she was developing what might be considered feelings for Harry. It wasn't preferable, but there wasn't a lot of say in matters of the heart.

Once they finished up secretively looking over Harry's work, the girls got themselves comfortable lounged out on the couch together. They had changed into their pyjamas when they first arrived in sleepover tradition, and were so ready for the interesting rest of the night ahead.

They watched the final half hour of an action movie they didn't really care much for while they painted each other's nails (red for Taylor, dark blue for Selena). Deciding to put on something they were actually keen on watching, they filled a bowl with popcorn and sat it between them as the chick flick they'd slid into the DVD player began.

Both had seen 13 Going On 30 a couple times before, and both did love a good dance party, so it wasn't really surprising when Jenna and the girls let loose in one sleepover scene and Taylor and Selena did the same.

Jumping up and into some clear space, the girls twirled around and sung along loudly to 'Love is a Battlefield' as if they too were in the movie. It was carefree fun made even better by sharing it with their best friend. They got so into it, paying zero attention to anything else going on – there wasn't normally anything else going on.

Except Taylor now had a roommate, one with a key she had thoughtfully given him in case he needed it, and one who could apparently get through the front door unnoticed.

How long Harry stopped by the door just watching them in amusement, neither would know, but Taylor instantly shrieked when she caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye as she spun around in her untamed dancing. It only took a second for her to stop and realise who it was, and the three of them looked between each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of hysterics.

"Fucking hell, Taylor," Harry laughed, clutching at his chest as he tried to calm down.

"I'm so sorry," Taylor grinned, struggling to get a hold of her own laughter. "You scared me!"

"I scared the shit out of you," he agreed, looking far too gorgeous as he tilted his head back and really truly laughed. He groaned in between, running his hand over his still-tender ribs. "Fuck, Tay."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good, I'm good." Lifting his head back up, he returned his gaze over to Selena, offering her a friendly grin. "Selena, right? I'm Harry."

He pushed over in his wheelchair, extending his hand out to shake Selena's, and Taylor could practically see the tick of approval Selena was giving him in her head.

"It's nice to finally meet you. How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, considering."

"I've got something for you," Selena said, and both Harry and Taylor looked surprised as she skipped into Taylor's bedroom in search of her overnight bag. Harry looked at Taylor questioningly, but she just shrugged. She hadn't said anything about bringing him something.

When she returned, Selena handed over a pink envelope, and Taylor mouthed, "Are you kidding me?" behind Harry's back as he, sure enough, pulled out a 'get well' card. Selena just smiled, was proved that her token of kindness was worth it as Harry giggled at whatever she had written inside and thanked her appreciatively.

"Did you want to join us?" Taylor asked him as he went to set the art things he had taken to class with him back with the rest of his belongings. Harry glanced up at her, smiling.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on your night."

"It's cool," Selena assured him. "If you don't mind the movie."

"You kidding? This is a great one."

So when they settled back on the couch, Taylor was situated between Harry and Selena, both of them sitting close to her – probably so they could easily reach the bowl of popcorn now in her lap. They wound the film back a little so they could catch up on the bit they had missed thanks to their startling encounter, Harry more than happy just to pick up from where they were up to.

As she was sitting on his right, Taylor was closest to the cast he had doodled all over, and she was careful not to bump him by mistake. Occasionally, after he grabbed a handful of popcorn, he rested his hand in the small gap between their legs, his fingers brushing against her bare thigh; her little PJ shorts rode up high, and she certainly wasn't complaining.

Taylor tried to keep her attention on the movie and not on the heat Harry brought to her skin he brushed against, that bit easier thanks to Selena's presence. At least she knew there was no hope of anything happening between them while her friend was there.

They switched back to the TV channels after the film finished, flicking around as they chatted. Selena was completely comfortable in talking with Harry, intrigued to get to know him, the one guy who had managed to poke at Taylor's 'I'm happy on my own' stance. Taylor had to admit, she was grateful that Selena wanted to make sure she wasn't getting into anything she shouldn't.

The girls retreated to Taylor's bedroom when Harry started yawning. While Selena said only a light goodnight, Taylor lingered to make sure he got into his bed okay after giving him a parting hug. Selena peeped from the doorway, bouncing on her toes as Taylor flicked off the lights before joining her, pushing the door almost shut behind her.

"Oh my god," Selena gasped, making sure to keep her voice down as they climbed up onto the bed. Meredith was asleep on the end, only briefly stirring at the disruption. "He's so hot – way to go, Tay!"

"Shh," Taylor blushed, hoping that Harry wouldn't be able to hear them despite their efforts to keep their exclamations quiet.

"I've got to admit, I was concerned when you said you had let a stranger into your place, but he's so nice!"

"I told you! He's always so polite but also, like, sarcastic and teasing and–" Sighing, Taylor knew her cheeks were pink and she had a gleeful smile, but she couldn't help it. "He's fun to have around. He brings something that I haven't had here before."

"You should ask him if he wants to come to the party."

"I was thinking about it, but I don't know if it's something he'd really be interested in. I mean, he can't even walk and he's not drinking, either. Plus, he's British."

With the Fourth of July weekend fast approaching, the girls already had their plans sorted: a party at a friend's, Taylor insisting upon bringing a lot of the food for the group of them. Naturally, no one had tried to stop her from volunteering – they all loved Taylor's treats. She wanted to ask Harry if he was interested in coming, but she wasn't so sure a party, however low key it might be, was really what he was up for right now.

"Just ask him! I bet he'd totally come just for you."

"I don't know about that."

"He's so into you, Tay!"

Automatically she shook her head.

"Have you even seen how he looks at you? Like you're an angel or something."

Taylor tried her best to bite back her smile. Selena was more accurate than she even knew.

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In the early hours of Sunday morning, Taylor stumbled into her apartment after having tried three times to get her key in the lock, finally figuring it out on the fourth. The fourth. The irony had her giggling stupidly to herself.

She had been right in assuming that Harry didn't want to come to their Independence Day celebration – or rather, he would've liked to have come, just not in the state he was in. A broken leg didn't exactly exude a sense of fun and excitement, and he really didn't want to be a downer on what would otherwise be a good get together. There was also the whole not-being-an-American thing, but that didn't seem to bother him. He would've liked to have gotten to know some more of her friends, and she was sure they would like him, too.

The day had been fantastic: meeting up in the afternoon, they had had plenty of time to play around in the backyard pool at one of the guy's places, having a delicious dinner (Taylor's potato salad was voted the best part) and a festive cake and apple pie for dessert (again, Taylor's marvellous creations), chatting and listening to music for hours. And drinking. Lots of drinking.

It would've been easier just to crash at the house and get a ride home in the morning, but Taylor wanted to make sure that Harry was doing okay. It was unnecessary, but she couldn't put a halt on her nurturing nature.

When she teetered in, Harry was surprisingly still up despite the late hour. He was spread out on the couch watching the TV with the sound down, tilting his head up when he heard her return.

"Didn't expect you to be back 'til tomorrow," he said, sounding sleepy. "How was the party?"

"It was great!" Taylor replied too enthusiastically, leaving her things on the dining table. She kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the floor beside him, not quite as graceful as usual. "You really should've come."

"Nah." Sitting up, he started to shift to make room for her. "You can tell me all about it."

"Do you want some cake? Or pie? I saved you a slice of both."

Once he propped his leg up on the table like normal, Taylor climbed up to join him on the sofa, sitting close beside him. She was smiling, especially as Harry's eyes drifted down to take in her starry top and denim cut offs, bikini still on underneath.

"You seem like you've had a good time."

"Mhm!"

"And you seem quite drunk."

Biting her lip, failing to hold back her grin, Taylor soon burst into tell-tale giggles. She didn't often drink much, but it was a holiday, so what the hey?

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"No! God, no. I got a taxi."

"Glad to hear that, love."

As she twisted a lock of his loose hair around her finger, Taylor had the inexplicable urge to kiss him. She always had been a bit of a clingy drunk – which Harry quickly learnt as she draped her around him and flopped down to rest her head on his shoulder. He chuckled in surprise, sliding his arm around her as she got herself comfortable cuddling up to him.

"You smell like chlorine," he commented, and she smiled against his soft sleep shirt.

"We went swimming. I haven't showered yet."

"'m not sure I trust you to have one on your own right now."

"I'm not that drunk! I only had a few."

"A few too many," Harry teased, cheekily tickling her side. Taylor laughed loudly, squirming up against him until he ceased.

"That was mean," she whined, relaxing back so she was practically half sitting on his lap, apparently no longer caring about personal space. All she wanted right then was to be close to him, and Harry didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a cute drunk?"

"Not anyone as cute as you."

In a sound state of mind, she likely would've been embarrassed for spilling a line like that, but Taylor just giggled. It's not like it wasn't true.

"Oh, so flirty Taylor comes out after a few drinks. Nice," Harry grinned, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin of her thigh. It sent heat coursing through her body, very nearly had her shifting herself onto his lap properly.

"You should probably get some sleep, love," he went on to say, which was so not what she wanted to hear.

"I'm not tired yet."

"Want to hang out here with me for a bit, then?"

"Yes, please."

Despite her insistence that she wasn't ready for bed, Taylor got so comfy tucked up under Harry's arm. She barely paid attention to what was on the television; it was mere background noise as she relaxed with her head against his shoulder, a quiet contentment after the fun of the day. It wasn't long before her eyelids began to feel heavy and she struggled to keep her eyes open, the warm feeling she got from being so close to him, from having him want to be close to her, the only thing keeping her awake.

When it had been a while since she had last spoken, Harry twisted his head to try to see if she was still up, carefully brushing her hair away from her face.

"Tay?"

"Yeah?" she replied softly, tilting up to look back at him.

"'m not gonna be able to carry you to bed if you fall asleep on me," he pointed out, and she smiled as she finally, rather reluctantly, pulled herself away from him.

"Do you wanna come in with me?"

A slow smirk teased at Harry's lips, one he was unable to fight off despite the voice in his head telling him not to take advantage of her.

"S'pose it would be irresponsible of me to let you be alone like this," he flirted back, lightly tipping her chin up. "Get yourself ready, love. I'll be there in a minute."

Taylor was very pleased with herself as she headed for the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, remembering to take out her contacts, not wanting a repeat of the mornings she woke up with them still in. Her hair didn't feel very nice thanks to all the time spent in the pool, but she would deal with that later.

Harry waited for her to change into her pyjamas first before he made his way into the bedroom with her, bringing his pillow along with him. He nodded toward the bikini set she had carelessly left on the floor, smiling as he glanced back at her. "Bet that looked nice on you," he easily guessed, and she wished she had thought to show him while she still had it on.

"You really should've come," Taylor insisted again as she climbed under the light blankets. "I missed you there."

It was a crazy thing to think, an even crazier thing to say, but Harry looked at her in such soft wonder that it didn't seem so foolish at all.

"Maybe we could do something together again sometime, just you and me," he suggested, carefully manoeuvring himself into a comfortable position beside her.

"I'd love that."

Once they switched the bedside lamp off, silence overtook the apartment. It wasn't at all awkward having him in with her, rather she adored the way he gazed at her in the dark and gently stroked her hair as she laid on her side facing him. She couldn't remember the last time she had had such a tender goodnight, and it was such a shame she wasn't sober enough to be able to later recall every little detail of right now later.

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When Taylor peeked her eyelids open past midday, she found Harry was still beside her, reading something on his phone. For a moment she had to wonder what on earth she'd done with him last night, but considering her clothes were still on, she assumed she was safe from ruin.

Harry noticed when she stirred, looking her way and smiling when he saw she was awake. "Good morning – or afternoon, I should say," he welcomed her softly, and god, was his adorable smile and his slow accented voice the perfect thing to wake up to. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah," Taylor quietly exhaled, turning on her side to properly face him. While she could move around in the night as she pleased, Harry was permanently stuck lying on his back; he barely looked like he'd moved at all, even though he'd slipped out of bed when he'd awoken earlier.

"How you feeling?" he asked, putting his phone down.

Her head felt fuzzy and her mouth was begging for some water and freshening up with some toothpaste, but she still gave a small smile and an, "I'm okay."

"I was hoping you'd wake up soon – I'm starving, didn't want to disturb you."

"You really didn't have to wait for me."

"Course I did. Do you want tea or coffee? Or something else?"

"You don't have to make me anyth–"

Harry interrupted by pressing a finger to her lips, smiling at her. "It's my turn to take care of you. No arguing. I want to."

Truthfully, Taylor didn't really want to argue. It was nice to have someone look out for her, even if she didn't particularly need it. It was the thought that counted, and Harry clearly seemed determined to go through with it.

"So, what would you like to drink?" he asked again, and she willingly relented.

"Coffee, please."

With a committing nod, Harry sat up. "I'll be back. You wait here, love."

Taylor watched as he shifted up to standing and hopped away on his crutches, wondering how she had managed to befriend such a genuinely good guy under the worst circumstances.

Staying in bed for a couple minutes longer, listening to the sounds of the kettle boiling and Harry pottering in the kitchen, Taylor soon got up after him. She slid on her glasses before heading for the bathroom, almost regretting her wish to see clearly when she caught sight of her reflection. Her hair desperately needed a good wash, having turned to unappealing stringy curls from where she had been swimming at the party. She was almost too embarrassed to let Harry see it in the clear daylight, especially when she realised that her top was partially see-through and he would likely be able to tell she had forgotten to put a bra on when she'd changed last night.

Instead of cowering though, she scooped up Olivia on her way to the kitchen, using her as a furry shield in front of her chest. Harry saw her without make-up on all the time; it really wasn't that bad.

"You weren't planning on using this for anything in particular, right?" Harry checked, halting the hand grasping a knife he was using to cut the thick strips of fat on the rashers of bacon he had taken from the fridge.

"Go for it," she permitted – like she was really going to say no to bacon for breakfast. Glancing at the mugs he had set out on the bench, she pointed to her usual flower-printed cup that was steaming with hot liquid. "Is this mine?"

"Yeah, I hope it's okay," he smiled as she reached for the handle. "You can go back to bed, if you like. I'm okay out here."

"I can see that," Taylor smiled back, forcing herself to walk away before she could kiss him on the cheek like she suddenly had the urge to. Not that he didn't deserve it, she just didn't want to make things awkward.

Bringing Olivia along with her, Taylor headed back to bed, feeling quite well with her coffee and the promise of a good breakfast she didn't have to make for herself. She found her phone on the way and texted Selena; it was weird not seeing her on a Sunday, but yoga really hadn't been in the cards this week.

She perused her social media while she waited, checking out what other people were up to over the Independence Day weekend. Olivia sat comfortably on top of her, pushing her head up into Taylor's hand as she scratched behind her ears, eager for more. Taylor loved having at least one friendly cat that always enjoyed the affection she had to give.

About ten minutes later, Harry came wheeling in – he'd switched aids so he could carry everything in on his own. Along with some cutlery, he had a plate balancing on his lap, which he pushed over to her across the wrinkled blankets with a grin.

"Breakfast, angel," he announced, passing over a knife and fork as she smiled at the neat stack of pancakes he presented to her, glistening with honey. The smell of the crispy bacon on the side had her mouth watering.

"Thank you."

Moving Olivia off her lap, Taylor sat up properly and replaced the space with her plate, her cat plopping down up against her in the hopes of more affection or maybe some scraps. Harry soon came back with his own stack, his cup of coffee sandwiched between his thighs so it wouldn't spill on the way.

"So, what's your verdict?" he asked when he got himself resettled beside her, Olivia sprawled out in the gap between them. He sat with his plate on his lap, cutlery poised in either hand.

Chewing the mouthful she had, Taylor looked at him deadly seriously as she declared, "You're on breakfast duty from now on."

A smile slowly forming on his lips, Harry broke into a full-on grin when Taylor broke her façade and started to laugh.

"These are really good, thank you," she smiled truthfully, admiring the dimple creasing his cheek as he glanced down to cut a careful piece out of his perfectly fluffy pancakes.

"You're very welcome, Tay," he said, and if she didn't know better she would've sworn he sounded bashful.

It was wonderfully relaxed, eating breakfast in bed together in the middle of the day. Weeks ago, the thought that she would be happily sharing her space with a guy she just met was laughable. Things like this didn't just happen to Taylor. They didn't happen to Harry either, which was certainly a damn good thing. Neither one of them wanted him to experience something as atrocious as the accident again.

They nursed their coffees once they were finished with their food, having to stack their plates on top of one of the nightstands so Olivia wouldn't lick the top one like she had immediately tried to when they just left them on the blankets.

"I've got to be honest, I've slipped them both a little something while it's just been me here," Harry admitted as he gave Olivia a scratch behind the ears, making her purr appreciatively.

Raising her eyebrow, Taylor shook her head. "Oh, so that's why they like you so much," she laughed. Olivia often curled up with Harry, happy to be in his company, Meredith occasionally joining him when she was in the mood. It was kind of cute, actually. He'd gotten the friend and the cat approval.

"I found their treats in the cupboard, too."

"It's all making sense now."

Harry grinned at her, and Taylor wished her insides didn't flutter at the sight.

When Olivia eventually decided to go off on her own, Taylor followed suit, taking their dishes out to the kitchen and leaving them in the sink. She topped up the cats' food and water bowls while she was at it, and when she returned to her room, she intended on it being a brief stop before getting into the few things she needed to get done today.

But then Harry tilted his head at her, looking unfairly attractive with his floppy hair and his sweet smile, and she was putty in his hands.

"You look really pretty with your glasses on," he complimented, and she really didn't want to be that girl whose insecurities lifted with a boy's validation, but right then she was. "They suit your features. C'mere."

When Harry opened his arm out, gesturing for her to return to her spot beside him – only a lot closer than before – Taylor hesitated by her closet. She needed a shower, not to jump into Harry's arms.

As seconds passed and she didn't make a move, Harry's cheerfulness deflated, his arm slowly dropping back down to his side. Taylor instantly felt a wrench of guilt, like she'd just kicked a puppy. Oh god, he didn't think she only wanted to cuddle him when she was drunk, did he?

Taylor gave him more than he bargained for when she impulsively skipped over to him, and instead of going around him, she climbed right over the top of him. It returned his smile as she scooted up against him, letting him slide his arm around her waist. His gaze fixed on her face, and the warmth in which he looked at her had her melting on the spot.

"You should try wider frames," he thought, lightly tilting her chin to angle her face a couple ways as he studied her. "I think they'd look good on you."

"I used to have a pair like that, they really weren't cool," she countered, glad that she stuck to her sleek frames when she wore glasses nowadays. They looked more mature, and considering she was hardly at her best right now, she was happy to not have anything making her look unnecessarily dorky.

"I reckon you could make anything look cool," he said, and she really had to scoff. That was so far from the truth.

"Don't give me any of that 'I'm not pretty' bullshit," he went on.

"You're crazy."

"If I'm crazy for thinking you're incredibly beautiful, then so be it."

God. Did he have to be so charming?

Instead of breaking away, Taylor properly cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder like she had the night before. Harry kept his arm around her, and as she laid her hand over his chest, she could feel the quickened beat of his heart. If she looked up, she would've seen him blushing.

Once she got comfortable, it was hard to want to move again. Like, ever. Harry was warm and she fit perfectly under his arm – no wonder she had almost fallen asleep on him last night. She wasn't even tired now and she felt like if she closed her eyes, she could contentedly drift off into a nice nap. There was just something about Harry...

Trust. Taylor trusted him, right from the get go. It had been a long time since she had let a guy in, and Harry was continuously proving that trusting him wasn't a mistake. Not even the slightest.

"Thank you," she murmured after a while, and Harry looked down at her quizzically, his finger still tracing absent circles over her hip bone. She wished she wasn't wearing anything and she could feel that finger igniting skin instead.

"You don't have to thank me for anything," he said, but she did, just not in the obvious ways he had to thank her.

Harry's phone vibrated nearby, but he ignored it; it thrilled Taylor that he would rather pay attention to her than someone through a screen. His heartbeat had relaxed, but he certainly hadn't numbed to the feeling of their bodies connecting. He'd struggled a bit when she twisted more toward him and he could really feel her breasts pressing up against him, but his willpower had prevented any awkward developments.

"I really should shower," Taylor eventually acknowledged again, though she really just wanted to stay where she was – maybe with another one of his cups of coffee.

"I am getting a bit hot here," Harry laughed lightly, but when she went to pull away, he kept her firmly at his side.

"You should've said something earlier. Summer has got to be the worst time to have to wear a cast," she realised, tilting her head up to look at him. He was smiling down at her fondly.

"I'm doing okay," he promised. "I'm quite happy here, actually."

Taylor smiled back. "Me too."

"Is there anything you have to do today?"

"Just my usual gardening. Why?"

"Could you teach me?"

"Sure! If you want to learn."

Once they finally parted, Taylor went off for her shower, feeling much better after rubbing shampoo into her hair and washing the lingering chlorine off her skin. Harry changed while she was in the bathroom, cooler in shorts and a printed t-shirt. He grinned at her when she stepped out with her short hair dripping on her tank top.

Filling up the spray bottle she always kept on her kitchen counter with fresh water, Taylor took him around to each of the potted plants she had around the apartment. She poked her finger into the first pot of soil, showing him how she checked the moisture level – different plants needed watering at different frequencies, and she let Harry do the spraying at the base of the plants he could reach in his chair. She showed him how she checked the leaves, spritzing them to wash off dust and ensuring each were healthy, using a small pair of shears to clip off a couple of browning leaves off some stalks. Harry was attentive the entire time, his interest taking her by pleasant surprise. A part of her was always waiting for him to make fun of her like she had experienced in the past, but from Harry, that mocking never came.

"I'd like to grow something too," he thought when they stopped by the herbs on the windowsill, giving each little pot a light watering.

"I could take you to the nursery, if you want," Taylor offered, glancing at him to see if he was actually serious. "I need to get some more potting mix, anyway. I've got some spare pots you could use, or you could pick out your own."

"Really?" he said, and when he looked up at her with big green eyes, she knew he wasn't joking. He actually wanted to take care of something. Because of her. "Could you help me pick what would grow well in here?"

"Of course."

"And can I paint the pot?"

Taylor smiled, gently running her fingers through his hair with affection. "You can paint it however you like," she granted, and the way Harry grinned at her with those dimples and a sparkling light in his eyes should've been illegal. It fluttered Taylor's insides like a million butterflies trapped in a tiny box, vying to break free.

At least when he eventually left, he would have something lasting to remember her by.

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One of the wonderful perks of being the proud owner of two cats was being woken up unexpectedly at ungodly hours of the night by little paws that apparently didn't have any manners.

This time, it was Olivia (as it normally was) trying to climb over her while she was happily sleeping; apparently it was easier to scale over her face rather than go all the way around. Taylor startled awake, struggling to see in her dark surroundings. Olivia's white fur gave her away, though, and Taylor whined uselessly at the blissfully unaware feline. At least she hadn't left behind any scratches this time.

As she rolled over onto her opposite side, hoping to fall right back to sleep, Taylor realised that all was not quiet in her apartment, and that the sound she could hear was most definitely not coming from her other cat.

Pushing the blankets back, Taylor clambered out of bed, light on her feet as she moved to the open doorway. She really should've put her glasses on because she had to strain to get her eyes to focus in the dark, but she knew exactly what she was hearing.

"Harry?" she spoke softly, her voice sleepy and full of concern. Even with the lack of light, she could make out the way he threw his arm over his head, trying to hide. It was never going to work.

"Harry," she repeated when she hurried over, kneeling down beside his temporary bed. After his short stay in her room over the weekend, he had returned to the lounge to maintain their usual separate space, but perhaps that hadn't been the best for him. At least when he was staying in with her, he wasn't crying in the middle of the night.

He tried to stop her from guiding his arm away from his face, though he soon surrendered. He let her pull him into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Tears streamed down his face despite his desperate longing for them to stop, especially now that she was there.

What Taylor was feeling was not judgment, but immense sorrow. The boy bawling in her arms did not deserve the ill that had come to him. He did not deserve the headaches or the soreness in his ribs and leg, nor the inability to get a lengthy sleep without being tormented by unwanted flashbacks. He did not deserve to feel like he had done something to warrant something so wretched happening to him. He did not deserve not to know how wholly wonderful he was.

Taylor let him cry himself out, holding him close, making sure he knew he wasn't alone. She whispered quiet comforts, trying to soothe him with her gentle words. Harry was burning with embarrassment over being caught in such an emotional state, but truth be told, Taylor helped. Hearing her say he was going to be okay almost made him believe it.

"Breathe, baby," she tried to calm him, running her hand in circles over his shaking back. He was gulping for air between each sob and she just needed him to relax. "You're alright. No one's gonna hurt you now, baby, I promise."

It was a promise she couldn't truly make, but Taylor would give anything to make it happen.

Harry's grip on her tightened, and when he finally managed to speak, his words came out choked. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Harry, no," she sighed sadly, gently rocking him back and forth. "You've got nothing to apologise for."

He wasn't so sure he agreed, but he didn't argue.

It took a while for Harry to pacify, his cries eventually lulling to wet sniffles. The darkness concealed his red eyes and blotchy cheeks, his sodden skin and runny nose in desperate need of tissues. He had dampened a patch of her tee and he felt ashamed for such an outburst, even though she felt nothing but tenderness for him.

When he pulled away, his eyes cast down, Taylor rubbed her hands over the knots in his shoulders. She wasn't going to ask the obvious, instead letting him settle down for a moment on his own.

"Come in with me, okay?" she softly guided, relieved when she was met with a tiny nod and not a protest. "I'll get you some tissues and a glass of water. Are you okay getting to my room on your own?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, his voice barely audible and breaking in the middle, as if he was about to burst into tears again.

"Take my hands, baby."

With great care, Taylor helped Harry lift himself up, sliding her arm around his waist to steady him when he stood. Harry sniffed and cursed under his breath, struggling to hop through to her bedroom on his crutches with his shaky hands and watery eyes. Right then, he would've quite liked the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

As soon as he was safely down in bed with his pillow tucked under his head, Taylor rushed to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, grabbing a box of tissues on her way back. She instinctively left the lights off, sparing Harry any further humiliation. She walked around to the other side while Harry wiped at his face and blew his nose, louder than he really wanted it to be through the apartment's silence.

Harry sighed when she settled on her side beside him, his eyes falling closed as her fingers slipped into his hair. Taylor stroked her fingers through soothingly, resting her other hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You're not sleeping well, are you?" she guessed, her heart breaking as he slightly shook his head. He napped plenty, especially since the doctor recommended it to help with his concussion, but full sleep was few and far between. She wished he would've opened up to her about it sooner.

"Just... remember more detail..." Harry mumbled, his bottom lip quivering and eyes welling with fresh tears. Taylor kept her fingers moving in his hair at a slow pace, relaxing him with something gentle and constant to focus on.

"Have you talked about it with anyone?"

"Not really..."

"Maybe you need to."

Considering it, Harry reached for a new tissue to wipe under his nose. "You already know what happened..."

"Not in the way that you do." In the dark, he couldn't see the pleading in her eyes. "Talk to me. Please."

He was never going to jump at the chance to relive that night. He was silent for a while, closing his eyes in contemplation. How was talking about it supposed to help him forget?

"I wish..." Harry eventually said slowly. "I wish I'd looked properly. Had my music not so loud. Something."

"They came out of nowhere, Harry. I know you looked before you crossed. I saw you."

"Didn't check well enough."

"They skidded right around the corner. They had no control over the car. They just..."

They both knew what they just.

Turning his head to her, Harry searched for her eyes, holding on securely. "You still see it too," he realised, hit with a surge of guilt laced with anger over the unfairness of it all. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She merely brushed off his apology. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I'd do anything for you not to have to go through this."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. It could've been anyone out there. If not you..."

Taylor swallowed. Even with the lack of light, her eyes had adjusted well enough for her to detect Harry's studying stare. She could see him practically picking at her brain, reading her mind. She wished she hadn't said anything.

"You think it should've been you?" he asked, appalled. Bingo. "That's bullshit. No, Taylor, that's bullshit. You're too nice for your own good."

Keeping quiet, she tried to hold back tears of her own. It was true. She knew how easily it could've been her the car crashed into. Harry was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't his fault. It really wasn't Taylor's, and yet she felt guilty for walking away without a scratch. She couldn't explain it.

"Don't think like that, okay? I know why you do, but please." Harry rested his hand atop hers and a tear dripped down her cheek. God, when did she become the one who needed comforting?

"I was so scared for you," Taylor whispered, sniffing to get a hold of herself. "The way you hit the ground... And the blood... Did you feel anything?"

He nodded solemnly. "I didn't black out 'til I landed."

"Oh my god," she exhaled shakily. "I was hoping you would've just... missed that part."

"I did. Sort of. When I woke up, I didn't really... I remembered, but not like that? It wasn't vivid."

"But your dreams are...?"

"Like it happening again. And again. And again."

Immediately Taylor sunk down to hug him, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close to his chest. She felt Harry sigh deeply underneath her, and she tried to focus as much positive energy as she could muster up into the hug. Harry deserved to be happy. For so many reasons, Harry was a good person, and he deserved not to be haunted by the wrong that had been done to him.

"You can stay in here with me from now on, if you think it'll help," she offered, sounding nowhere near as crazy as it had the first time she had made the suggestion.

"It does. Sort of. I like your company."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I didn't want to intrude on you any more."

"Harry." Lifting her head, she found his gaze again. "We're friends. Friends look out for each other." He sniffled, and she went back to playing with his hair. "Do you trust me?"

"Course," he answered without hesitation.

"You have a safe space here," Taylor made sure he understood, as cheesy as it sounded. "You're okay here with me. You've got me."

"My angel," he whispered, more like the Harry she knew.

Massaging his scalp, Taylor sighed, pressing her forehead against his. For closeness. In the emotion of the moment, she wasn't thinking how easy it would be to kiss him like this.

"I wish they'd caught the assholes who did this. I wouldn't mind hitting them with my car and seeing how they like it."

Most surprisingly, the sound that came out of Harry resembled somewhat of a laugh. Small, not quite whole, but something.

"What?"

"Nothing. 's just. Revenge. How you said assholes."

"Are you kidding me?" she said, pulling back to look at him properly again. "I just had to swear to get you to smile again?"

"Apparently."

"Well, fuck."

Harry let out a small stupid giggle, and a smile began to lift the corners of her own lips.

"Fuck," she repeated playfully. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Tay."

"Would you want to get some fucking revenge?"

"Fuck yes," he quickly agreed, perking up a bit. "We could pack up and go on the run. Like Bonnie and Clyde. Taylor and Harry."

"I can't imagine you using a gun."

"Well I can't picture you using one either," he huffed another laugh.

"I grew up on a farm," she reminded him, as if that one fact meant she actually was experienced in firearms. "I could totally handle it. Plus, you know how I love my crime shows. I'd probably make a good felon."

"No one would suspect a florist," he agreed. "Might not be such a bad idea after all."

It was, but it was nice to think of something lighter, something imaginary. It was nice to have stopped Harry's tears.

"I think you should talk to your family tomorrow," Taylor told him, shifting to seriousness again. "Skype your mom. Really talk to her. I'm sure it's hurting her being so far away right now."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will." As he pulled her in closer to him, she rested her head back on his chest, getting comfortable cuddling up to him. "You really mean a lot to me, you know? I'm really thankful for everything."

"I know." She squeezed him lightly. "I love having you here."

His fingers grazed over a bare slice of skin on her hip where her top had ridden up and her eyes fluttered closed, feeling tingles she didn't think she should've.

"Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep okay?" she asked, and he bit down on his lip.

"I don't know."

"I'm staying right here, babe," Taylor promised him. "I'm not going anywhere."

━━━━━━━━

Harry was quieter over the next few days. He seemed to have given up on trying to pretend everything was alright all of the time and he looked... well, hurt. Like a kicked puppy with his floppy hair and his big green eyes always seeking approval.

He had settled into sleeping in her room, but the inflatable mattress was still set up in the lounge just in case he changed his mind. Judging by the way he made sure she kept near him in the night, it didn't seem likely he was going to.

In the hopes of perking him up, Taylor brought him fresh flowers (both for him to draw and to admire), baked him chocolate chip cookies and cooked him dinners he especially liked, and offered to take him out the apartment wherever he liked. He didn't feel up to it, which wasn't the best sign. She was tempted to take him to see a doctor, but she didn't think springing that on him would go down well.

When she came home just after midday after her morning shift later in the week to find Harry lounged out on the floor trying to play fetch with Olivia, she believed that time really was going to be the best healer.

"You should've seen her catch one of these!" Harry grinned as she walked in, rolling another cat treat around in his hand. "She jumped so high, it was amazing."

"Are you fattening up my babies?" Taylor teased, eyeing the open bag of treats he had lying within his reach. She flashed him a friendly smile, setting her bag down on the table and stepping out of her heels in relief. While she hadn't had a particularly long day, she was glad to be able to spend the rest of it relaxing after the early wake up call to open the shop.

"If you don't want them to eat them, you shouldn't have bought them," he quipped, shifting his gaze back to the cat in front of him and tossing another fish-shaped treat up in the air. Olivia, patiently waiting, suddenly leapt up and caught it easily in her mouth with perfect reflexes, earning an enthusiastic cheer from Harry. He was in a good mood, and it instantly spread to Taylor.

"She does it again! She's a legend. Aren't you, Liv?"

He held his hand out for a high five that went expectedly ignored, Olivia simply sitting back down as she chewed on her reward. He was unperturbed; maybe he could teach her how to do that trick sometime.

"Where's Mere?" Taylor asked as she moved to the kitchen to inspect their lunch options, hoping she wouldn't need to make another trip out for anything.

"I don't think she liked the game. Liv didn't mind running for the treats, but Meredith gave me one of those death stares. I think she just wanted them without the effort. Don't blame her, really."

Shaking her head, Taylor smiled as she peered into the fridge. She really did love her pets, was glad that they were around to keep Harry company while she was out, too.

"Have you eaten?"

"No. I was kind of hoping you would have something planned," Harry smiled sheepishly, and she had to laugh.

"I told you I saved the leftover pasta for you! There's not enough for the both of us."

"Sorry. I can eat cat treats, if you want. I wonder what they taste like." He grabbed another out the bag, gaining Olivia's attention as he inspected it between his thumb and forefinger. He went to sniff it and for a second, she thought he was actually going to pop it into his mouth for a taste.

"Don't eat those! Oh my god, that's disgusting," Taylor exclaimed, wrinkling her nose at the sheer thought. Over all the years of serving cat food, she couldn't say she had had the urge to test what cat cuisine was really like. Then again, she wasn't a boy – lord knows what goes through their heads.

Doing as he was told, he quickly threw the treat up, grinning as Olivia jumped again, her precise attention giving her perfect timing. "I'm not too fussed. What've we got?"

"Well, you could still have the pasta. We've always got stuff for sandwiches, um... two-minute noodles... chicken tenders–"

"I want chicken," he announced, sounding like an eager kid, at least remembering to add, "Please?"

They ate together sitting on the floor, Taylor crossing her legs while Harry remained stretched out with his cast propped up on a pillow as usual, saving him from having to move. They tried not to drop too many crumbs as they chewed on their chicken and salad rolls, but Olivia still sniffed around to see if there was any more food for her, bless her.

"You look really nice today," Harry complimented, smiling at her with his characteristic kindness she had come to thoroughly adore. "The red lipstick always suits you. 's like, the perfect red for your complexion."

"Maybe I should bring you along next time I want to buy a new lipstick, since you clearly know your colours."

He playfully flicked her knee and Taylor just grinned. Their teasing was one of her favourite parts of their friendship. It had come so naturally, like they really got each other. If their circumstance was different, she was sure they still would've become fast friends with their compatible personalities (and star signs, she was embarrassed to say she had looked up).

"D'you feel like modelling for me?" he asked casually, unmistakable hopefulness tinging his tone. "I wouldn't mind doing some drawing today. A lovely model would help."

Taylor rolled her eyes, but she wasn't going to say no. She quite liked being one of his subjects, actually. At least it wasn't too hard a task to sit still for a while.

"I suppose I could," she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"I had an idea, actually. If you're okay with it."

When he didn't elaborate, Taylor raised her brow at him with intrigue. Looking at his work, she knew he loved working with bodies, but he had never pressured her into doing anything she wasn't comfortable with. It could've been anything.

"You know, um," he finally continued, his gaze down as he pushed crumbs around on his plate, always itching to create something, however small. "D'you have any of those, um. Those soft bras that are like, um, lace? Sometimes. Not always. Um. D'you know what I mean?"

Oh god, his nervousness was so fucking adorable, Taylor wanted to cup his face and kiss him all over.

"Yes," she smiled at him, leaning forward yet refusing to give into temptation to touch him. "And yeah, I have a few."

Harry glanced back up at her, relieved to find that she didn't seemed deterred by his dithering idea. "Would you be okay, um, wearing one for me? I know you're not interested in, like, my classes, but. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure," she decided breezily. It wasn't like it was much different from wearing a bikini, anyway, was it? If going swimming was an option for him, she would totally wear a bikini in front of him. No big deal. "I can show you what I've got and you can pick?"

Okay, showing him her underwear kind of was a big deal, but if it would lift his spirits, then what the hey? He only wanted to draw her, anyway.

Ducking into her room, Taylor rummaged around her top drawer to collect her favourite bralettes; she didn't have many, but at least they were cute. She loved a lot of lace, some articles smaller than others, and when she spread them out across the floor in front of Harry, she noticed the way his eyes widened over the more delicate options. Had she surprised him? Just wait until he saw them on.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively, mulling over what he thought was the most appropriate thing to decide on. He wanted to pick the tiny black number she had admittedly bought on flirty impulse, but he thought it a bit much to ask her to expose most of her breasts through the sparse lace on their first time. Instead, he pointed safely at a pretty white one with better coverage.

"Do you mind that I don't have a matching set?" she checked as she bundled the small garments back up.

"You can just wear shorts or something if you'd be more comfortable; I don't mind," he brushed her off, though judging by his inability to look her in the eye, he really wanted to see her in as little as possible. Wow.

Taylor didn't rush to change, giving Harry plenty of time to set up his materials. She slipped out of her dress and into the bra he'd chosen, inspecting her reflection in the mirror before she even dared to walk back out. Her pale pink panties didn't entirely match, but together they made for a pretty set. Taylor didn't really think she could pull off sexy, but pretty? She owned pretty.

It was on a whim that she decided she didn't need to wear anything else for him (after she decided that she definitely looked okay first, of course). As soon as Harry glanced up at her when she returned to the lounge, he dropped the piece of charcoal in his hand, his face flushing as he scrambled to pick it back up. God, he was cute. So fucking cute.

"How do you want me?" Taylor asked, and she didn't really mean to sound flirty, but she was in nothing but her underwear and her voice just naturally lilted into seduction. Could she really be blamed?

Harry could argue that she could, considering his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink over whatever image it conjured up in his head. "Could you just, um, sit by the plant over there?" he directed with a vague point of his hand, barely glancing up from the piece of paper he had taken out to warm up on.

Instead of quipping that he was going to have to be more specific, Taylor paraded over in the right direction, Harry sneaking a peek at her mile-long legs as she passed. She sat down on the floor in front of the potted fiddle leaf figs and jasmines that were set up by the wall, watching curiously as he focused back on his paper instead of giving her any more instructions right away. She stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, hoping that she didn't look ridiculous like this after all.

After going through some freeform sketching to loosen up, Harry set the paper aside and opened to a blank page in his sketchbook. He finally looked over at her then, seeming more composed as he tilted his head. "Can you sit, like... relaxed? Relax your legs. Yeah, like that. Maybe... lean on one hand? Yeah. Yeah, that's perfect."

Perfect. That certainly gave Taylor a burst of confidence.

They fell into their usual silence as Harry slipped into his creative concentration. Taylor watched him while he glanced routinely at her, his careful studying gaze one she found fascinating. It was strange to have a guy look at her when she was dressed like this and not have him purely rating her attractiveness. Harry was appreciating her. He was gazing over the shape of her, completely mesmerised. There were moments she worried he might be picking out flaws – Were her boobs big enough? Did her thighs look okay how she was sitting? Could he spot any stretch marks? – but when Harry occasionally gave a little smile to himself, he didn't seem mocking. Rather, he seemed... awestruck.

Surely he had drawn more attractive women. Surely he had drawn gorgeous girls who were actually real models. New York was crawling with incredibly beautiful people. She was hardly outstanding.

But to Harry, she was... well, she was an angel.

"You can take a break, you know," Harry told her softly, offering her a kind smile. It had been nearly twenty minutes and Taylor's hand had fallen asleep where she had been leaning on it, but she hadn't wanted to break his focus. He knew she could sit back in almost exactly the same position and remain still, a talent she didn't even realise she had, so he didn't really mind her getting up to stretch every now and then.

Taylor grabbed cookies for the both of them and shook out her hand to regain feeling. Oddly enough, she felt more self-conscious wandering around in her underwear than she did when she sat with him staring at her. It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't wearing much either, but he was in a relaxed tank top and shorts, trying to keep cool with the summer sun bringing in heat through the windows. They had a fan on, but not too close so as not to send all of his papers flying. How he was managing with his surely sweaty cast on, she hadn't a clue, but she poured him a cold glass of water to make sure he stayed hydrated.

"Can I take a picture of you?" Harry asked when she returned to her pose, giving him permission on the grounds that he promised he wouldn't send it around to anyone. He didn't seem like one of those assholes, but you could never be too careful.

"You look like an underwear model," he thought as he inspected the photo he snapped on his phone, and Taylor gave a deprecating laugh.

"Just because I'm in my underwear, doesn't make that true."

"No, you're really photogenic. And you've obviously got the body."

"Obviously?" she repeated doubtfully.

"Yeah." Harry glanced up at her, frowning a little, scratching his head. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he only turned back to his drawing and used his forefinger to smudge one of his lines.

Taylor faded out into her own fantasy while Harry continued his portrait. She imagined doing this for him regularly, donning a series of sexy lingerie as his favourite model. She imagined being repaid with heavy affection, for being so irresistibly stunning as she posed in all sorts of ways, part in thanks to her flexible yoga-trained limbs. It was a ridiculous indulgence, one she had to force herself out of when she realised how much heat was building between her thighs. The last thing she needed was for Harry to notice that her panties were getting a little... wet.

She managed to cleanse her thoughts before Harry finished his drawing, thank god. Harry did his usual analysing before he finally looked up at her with a smile, gesturing her over with a toss of his head. Taylor crawled over to him on her hands and knees, god knows why, and he tried to be subtle in the way his eyes followed the perfect view of her breasts.

Plopping down beside him, Harry tensed a little at how close she was as she peered at the sketchbook in his lap. Taylor was in awe of how smoothly he captured her body, the softness of her curves, the shadows he smudged in perfectly. He never put in a great deal of detail into faces when drawing like this, using a thinner charcoal pencil to add in what he needed. She loved how he'd done her hair, actually, emphasising the waves in her tamed bob with heavier strokes. Then there was the care he had taken in shaping her delicate bralette, which was... well. It was intriguing to see the way someone else really saw her.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked her quietly.

"You're so talented," Taylor spoke with reverence, lightly running her finger over the blank edge of the page. He'd vaguely sketched in the plants in the background, and it seemed very fitting to be exposing part of herself with her passion right there with her. She loved it.

"You inspire me," he almost whispered, blushing a little. When Taylor glanced at him, her heart melted. He was so fucking cute. He was quite possibly the cutest boy she had ever met; she couldn't believe he was here with her.

"Oh," she smiled softly. Coming from an artist, it was a huge compliment, one she greatly appreciated. To inspire him to create something beautiful was a great honour.

Harry went quiet again, picking up a piece of charcoal and signing his initials at the bottom of the page routinely. He put it back down, rubbing his blackened fingertips together. He tended to be a bit fidgety, actually. His artistic hands were always itching for something to do.

He subtly side eyed her, a shy smile giving a small lift to his lips. He held a nervousness that wasn't simply from having a beautiful underwear-clad woman sitting beside him; it was something more than that, something Taylor hadn't been expecting.

When he finally looked at her properly again, Harry's gaze drifted first from her lips up to her eyes. Then, in such a sweetly soft voice, he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Taylor's heart leapt. Harry's captivating green eyes were locked on hers and full of hope, brimming with unmistakable affection. He looked so positively adorable, with his lightly pinkened cheeks and his surely pounding heart, praying that she would say yes.

No guy had ever asked if he could kiss her before. As a handsome twenty-year-old, Harry shouldn't have really had anything to worry about – there were definitely plenty of girls who would be more than willing to kiss him. But here he was, seeking permission, impossibly gentlemanly. The fact that he had thought to ask instead of simply going for it on self-confident assumption meant a great deal to Taylor's inner romantic, more than he could quite understand.

At a loss for words at such an endearing surprise, Taylor nodded with an excited little smile.

Kissing Harry was wonderfully tender. He pressed his lips to hers with measured care, not too forceful nor too light. His lips were as soft as she had expected, his mouth warm and inviting. It gave Taylor a lovely fluttering sensation, flooding her with a sense of utter adoration.

The feeling was much stronger than she had been anticipating, and Taylor involuntarily sighed when they parted. When she opened her eyes, she found Harry gazing at her intensely, mystified. So he'd felt it too.

With her hand sliding to the back of his neck, Taylor didn't hesitate to pull him back in. She kissed him with a quiet confidence, amazed when Harry's lips parted slightly and the gentlest sound slipped through. Oh my god, kissing Harry was marvellous.

It only deepened as Taylor inched closer, resting her other hand on his jaw as they slowly ran tongues along lips and brushed them against each other. Soft and warm, sparkling and thrilling, she wanted to stay like this forever.

"Wow," Taylor airily exhaled when they did break apart for breath, making Harry's wondrous smile widen.

"Wow, indeed," he agreed, lightly nudging his knuckles against her bare thigh. Immediately she wanted his hands all over her, the thought making her giddy with anticipation.

"I need to, um." He laughed a little as he held his hand up, wiggling his charcoal-smudged fingers. "Don't want to get this all over you."

Giggling, Taylor gave him another kiss, lighter this time. "Wait here."

Harry watched with a dancing heart as Taylor skipped off, disappearing into the bathroom where she ran a cloth under the tap, squeezing out most of the water so it wouldn't drip all the way back. Perhaps it would've been easier for him to scrub his hands clean in there himself, but she was saving him the effort of getting up this way.

She saved him the effort altogether as she sat back down beside him, taking his hand and slowly rubbing each blackened finger with the small face towel. She took her time with each finger until she was satisfied they were clean of the drawing substance, Harry chewing down on his lip as he watched on. Perhaps it was the care she was taking, but he was, not for the first time, feeling something he shouldn't.

"Thank you," he said quietly when she finally set the towel aside. He wiped his hands dry on his shorts, nudging the sketchbook he had moved off his lap a little further away.

Taylor took the next chance when he looked at her again, leaning in to reconnect their lips. Scooting closer, she wrapped her arms around him, sighed into his mouth when he rested his hands on her bare skin too. Her fingers tangled, gently, in his hair, her teeth grazing over his tongue as it found its way into her mouth. She didn't so much care whether perhaps he thought her a bit too forward – she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and since the line had been crossed, she didn't see fault in trying to get it.

Of course, Harry wasn't worried about that. He was too busy being entirely astounded that she actually was interested in him, broken leg and all. His hands roamed with respectful caution, keeping to her back, her waist, her thighs. He didn't want to ask too much too soon, not even as she seemed clearly enlivened as she shifted herself up onto his lap, their torsos flush as she tried to avoid hitting the top of his cast a few inches back.

It barely took long for Taylor to feel Harry stiffen underneath her. She didn't at all blame him: their kisses were avidly intense and she was more aroused than she had been in a long time. Feeling him underneath her did nothing to calm her, either. He was covered by his boxers and shorts, but that didn't hide that he didn't seem, well, small.

When they messily broke apart a wonderful while later, lips having swollen from the thorough attention, it was so Harry could trail his mouth along her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He had Taylor melting as he reached her neck, moaning softly as he focused on the sensitive skin. Her back arched so her body pressed closer against his, chest rising temptingly. Harry stole a quick glance, kissing as far down her décolletage as he could manage in their position.

Taylor was rocking her hips just slightly against his, vying for the friction her body was begging for. It pleased her, and it certainly pleased him – a low whine escaped him and he squeezed her hips tightly, fingertips pressing firmly into her bare skin. He lifted his head, smiling such a purely excited smile.

"You're going to have to stop that," Harry murmured, his voice taking on a thick tone of charming seduction. He kissed below her earlobe, not appearing to want to stop at all.

"And what if I don't?" Taylor flirted back, twisting a lock of his hair at the nape of his neck around her finger. She felt comfortable with him, though considering her dress, that wasn't surprising to hear: she wouldn't be like this if she weren't. There was something about him that set her at ease.

Harry laughed warmly in her ear, sliding his hands around her back in a hug. "You tease," he said lightly, nuzzling against her neck.

"Maybe," she replied guiltily, smiling as he pressed his lips to her skin again.

"I didn't want to make things awkward between us," he then said after a moment or so, airing a thought she had had herself.

Taylor didn't respond immediately, thinking it over. "Does this feel awkward to you?"

"No," he chuckled without hesitation. "'cept my leg, a bit."

Throwing caution to the wind, Taylor let her usually-hidden confidence take control. After all, what was the worst that could happen? They deserved some fun.

"I'll make you forget all about that," she purred, pushing him down onto his back and doing just that.

━━━━━━━━

Sunday was the perfect summer day. After their routine morning yoga session, Taylor and Selena jumped back into the air-conditioned car and headed in search of the sand. They went to their favourite beach an hour or so's drive away, lathering themselves up in sunscreen before bounding into the ocean, the water offering a cool relief to their bare skin that had heated in the short time they'd taken to get from the car to a free spot on the sand.

There were plenty of other people around, families and friends all looking for a fun way to get a reprieve from the heat. Really, there was no better place to be than in the water, floating and splashing and diving. It was the perfect way to spend the freedom of a hot summer day.

The girls retreated rather reluctantly to their towels when they grew too hungry. Armed with burgers and cold Cokes from a local café, they shaded their eyes with their sunglasses as they chowed down on their not-so-healthy lunch. Neither particularly cared; they'd both done their good for the day, anyway, and the cheesy burgers smelled really good.

"You're so glowing," Selena teased between bites, tossing her dark tresses over her shoulder, falling in thick wet strands down her bare back.

"Am I burning?" Taylor misunderstood, touching her hand to her nose. With her pale skin, she always had to be careful in the sun, unless she wanted to end up looking like a lobster. Not exactly an ideal look.

"No," Selena laughed, bumping her knee against hers. "I mean, you look really happy."

The colour that rose to Taylor's cheeks was not from the sun. She couldn't hide behind her sunglasses (her favourite cat's eye frames), but with Selena, she didn't really care. She'd told her all about what had happened with Harry, probed out of more details than she would otherwise go into. It was exciting having something like that to talk about again, actually. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed all the wonderful things that came with being with someone until now, girl talk included.

Not that anything with Harry was official, of course. They'd only kissed, a lot, quite heavily, but nothing more, despite how much they wanted to. Taylor wasn't typically one to take things too fast, and Harry didn't seem to mind. Rather, he seemed to be delighted to be able to kiss her at all. It was kind of astounding, really.

"It's really not a big deal," Taylor tried shrugging it off, her smile betraying her. She was happy. She was so over the moon about having her feelings reciprocated again.

"Not a big deal? Babe, in all the time I've known you, you've never been this excited about a boy before."

"Am I crazy?"

"No! Babe, this is amazing for you! He sounds so into you. If he could walk, he'd be tripping over his own feet at the sight of you."

Even though she knew she shouldn't, Taylor burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand to try to stop herself. "Sel, oh my god. You can't say that."

"What? It's true," she playfully grinned.

"He has a broken leg!"

"It's not stopping him from trying to get between yours."

A group of guys walking past a few feet away eyed them appreciatively as they descended into loud, ridiculous giggles. The pair were a head-turning sight in their cute bikinis covering their healthy figures, though neither of them particularly noticed the attention they received.

"Really, is it crazy?" Taylor asked again when she regained her composure.

"Honestly? I'm surprised you managed to last a month without anything happening between you two," Selena said, earning a thump to the arm with Taylor's small fist. "He's hot! If it were me, I would've made the most of it way before now."

Taylor decided to keep the one fear that kept bugging her – what Harry healing and inevitably leaving would mean for them – to herself for now.

"You should go to his next class," Selena suggested, and Taylor's eyes enlarged behind her sunglasses.

"God, no. I'm no artist, and there's no way I'm stripping down in front of a bunch of strangers."

"What about for one friend?"

She had to admit, she had thought about it, but it was ridiculous, surely. How could she work up the nerve to be analysed completely bare?

"You're thinking about it!" Selena accused gleefully, the blonde's cheeks reddening once more.

"I trust him, it's just... what if he shows someone?"

"Then we'll go to some boxing classes so we can kick his ass. Once he can walk, obviously."

Smiling again, Taylor shook her head. Her hair was already drying and she hated to think what unruly curly state it was in.

"This is insane, but I think it's kind of... romantic," she admitted, immediately hiding her face behind her hands. "Like, back when people always painted portraits and wrote love letters. Women wore corsets and elaborate gowns and men were gentlemen and courted women and it was all... terribly romantic."

They both laughed at Taylor's awful attempt at an English accent. Just as well she didn't do it in front of Harry – he wouldn't let that poor attempt go easily.

"Sometimes I think you were born in the wrong era," Selena smiled affectionately. Considering Taylor was sitting in a pinstripe bikini with high-waisted bottoms, it wasn't an outlandish comment to make. She had always been wise yet whimsical, dreaming of a time where true love was real and lasting.

"I just hate to think what my mom would say, y'know?"

"At least it's a step up from sending naked pictures of yourself. Or is it a step back? Like the Victorian-era equivalent?"

While Selena contemplated this, Taylor took a sip of her Coke, condensation dripping down the bottle onto her fingers. She'd finished most of it and she was considering getting another – or at least a chilled bottle of water. Anything to keep cool and hydrated.

"Anyway, it's not that bad. You're gorgeous, Tay, you should flaunt it instead of shying away all the time, if you really trust him. How many guys are you gonna meet that want to spend every hour of every day painting you?"

Probably not many. This was New York, though – the city was bursting with creatives. She hadn't expected to meet Harry, especially not the way she had. Anything was possible.

"He likes charcoal," Taylor replied needlessly.

"I don't wanna know what he does with all those nude drawings," Selena said, making Taylor's eyes widen again at the unexpected and quite unnecessary image.

"Oh my god. He's not like that."

"Oh, please. He's a guy – I'm surprised you haven't walked in on him with his hand down his pants already. Ooh, Taylor!" she whined jokingly, Taylor playfully slapping her thigh. Neither of them needed to think about that. Regardless of what they were, that would just be awkward – especially if it was the other way around. Taylor didn't think she would ever live down that kind of embarrassment.

"I can't even with you," Taylor grinned and shook her head, pushing herself up and rising to her feet.

"You're only proving my point," Selena insisted as the blonde pranced off on her long, toned legs, looking as much like a supermodel as Harry seemed to think she was.

The girls hung around for a couple more hours, returning to the water for a refreshing splash around until their fingertips wrinkled and they tired. They treated themselves to ice cream cones and sat together on a park bench under a tree, enjoying the decline in temperature and the few admiring glances they got in their suits. It was a perfect girls' day out, one they both needed.

When Taylor dropped Selena back off at her apartment block, sand inevitably sprinkled across the interior of the car despite their efforts to shake themselves off, Selena smiled teasingly as she bid her goodbye with a cheeky, "Go home to lover boy." Taylor rolled her eyes, but she couldn't pretend that she wasn't glad to be going home to someone she cared for.

After the bustle of the beach on a hot weekend, it was contrastingly silent back in her apartment. Lover boy was lounged out on the couch as he so often was, though he was lacking a pencil and paper or a movie on TV. Instead, he had his headphones in and he was asleep in what looked to be peace, a welcomed sight. He was getting better rest in a proper bed, the inflatable mattress now all packed up, but he was yet to attain his regular resting patterns. He'd stumbled across a sleep sounds playlist that was helping, though, so perhaps it wouldn't be long until he was alright again.

Taylor tried her best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb him, especially when she didn't know how long he'd been out. She tiptoed around, deciding she couldn't put off the much-needed shower; there was sand in unmentionable places that was growing more uncomfortable the longer it lingered. Hopefully, with his mellow music on, Harry wouldn't even notice.

She thoroughly shampooed her hair, relieved to have the sunscreen and salt scrubbed off her skin. She had managed to avoid any dreaded sunburn, yet her skin felt tight thanks to all the hours spent outdoors. A good lathering of aloe lotion did the trick to cure that.

It was silly, but she found herself studying her reflection again while she had the privacy. As she massaged moisturiser over her breasts, Taylor debated whether she really was enough to sit bare for Harry. While she could gracefully accept compliments, it wasn't so easy to believe them as truth. Was she really as attractive as people told her? Her teenage insecurities declared a hard no.

Although, she had to admit, she had improved since her teens. She wasn't quite so lanky, and she was aware of what kind of clothes she could rock. It wasn't all bad.

Harry was still asleep when she crept out the bathroom in fresh clothes, and Taylor kept quiet as she left her beachwear in the laundry to be washed. She slipped into her bedroom, relaxing out on her bed as she returned to the book she was currently reading, a quiet activity after her eventful day.

She heard Harry before she saw him. After a short while, Taylor made out the sounds of him fumbling in the next room, then the familiar click of crutches against the wooden floorboards. He appeared in the doorway, peering around.

"You're back," he smiled sleepily, his voice soft. His hair was sticking out at odd ends from where he'd been laying, and he looked adorable. Totally adorable. "Gimme a sec."

There was more clicking as he went to the bathroom (his original destination), and Taylor returned her bookmark to her new page, setting it back aside on the nightstand. Harry hobbled back and got himself comfortable on the bed with her, smiling as she shuffled closer.

"Did you sleep okay?" Taylor asked him, unable to stop from running her hand through his messy curls. His shoulders relaxed at the action, and she couldn't help her smile.

"Yeah, 's alright. Just needed a bit of a nap," he said. He looked more rested, which she was more than happy to see. As much as he didn't want her to, she couldn't help her worry.

"Are you getting enough?"

"'m alright, love. 's not like I'm up all night. How about you? Are you doing alright?"

"Of course. Yeah, I mean, it's not all sunshine 24/7, but I'm okay. I sleep fine."

Better now that she had him safely beside her, but she wasn't going to mention that.

"Alright. Just, you know, you went through something too." He shrugged a little. He kissed the back of her lingering hand, wanting to move on. "How was your day?"

"A lot of fun. I could do with a nap myself," she smiled at him, friendly. The sea air and the physical exertion tended to tire her out.

Leaning a little closer, Harry lowered his voice. "I'd rather you didn't. I'm getting hungry and wouldn't mind tea soon."

Taylor laughed, lightly pushing his chest. "You're capable of fending for yourself!"

"Minor details," he grinned cheekily, and she leaned in to kiss him, slow and sweet. It brought him the same gorgeous, amazed smile as it was proving to always bring, and Taylor's heart warmed just the same.

"We should go to the beach when you get your cast off," she suggested.

"Not too long now," he said happily, giving his cast a trusty pat. While he had grown used to it – well, as much as he could – he was eager to be free of it. It wasn't the most comfortable, especially in summer. "'s gonna be great. Think of all the stuff we'll be able to do."

Actually, she had been trying not to conjure up too many imaginings of what could happen next between them, in case it didn't work out. Taylor wasn't very good at withholding that kind of hope, though, and she grinned at him now, joyous as he gave her another kiss.

God, Harry was going to be hard to shake.

"What do you want for dinner?" Taylor giggled when she heard his tummy rumble, making him blush a little.

"Whatever we've got," he replied easily, kissing her again to hide his embarrassment.

"I could do the pasta you like? That won't take too long."

"Oh, yes, please!"

His excitement had her grinning, and as she tried to lazily hop over him to get off the bed, Harry caught her with a quick hook of his arm around her waist, pulling her down on his lap. Taylor giggled girlishly, his lips finding her neck to pepper her with kisses.

"I thought you wanted something to eat," she reminded him, as if she wanted him to stop.

"Mhmm," he hummed, resisting the urge to make any indecent remarks by planting another kiss to her lips. His hand ran down her back when he let her go, smoothly sliding over her ass and making her wish she had remained on his lap for a little more after all.

Taylor moved to the kitchen, setting about preparing their dinner. The last time she had made carbonara for him, Harry had eagerly eaten the majority of it, even the few leftovers she had been hoping to take to work for lunch. Apparently she achieved the perfect creaminess, a compliment she humbly accepted.

Lacking in all the ingredients, though, she made sure Harry kept an eye on the linguine she had set to boil while she quickly popped out to pick up a jar of cream and a rasher of bacon from the closest grocery. It didn't take long, and Harry occasionally glanced at her from his spot back on the sofa as she continued cooking. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and the meal she heartily prepared soon left him happily sated.

"I made extra, y'know," Taylor let him know with a smile after delivering him seconds, catching a glint in his eyes.

"You're a legend, Tay."

She certainly felt quite satisfied when they retreated to the couch. It had been a good day, and she was contented as she tucked herself up under Harry's open arm. With the fan on, they didn't get too hot in their close proximity.

"Would you mind taking me to the art store sometime? I've only got one canvas left," he asked her when the show they were watching went to a commercial break. "Could do with a new yellow ochre, too. All the green in here's got me running low, same with my cool blue."

Taylor circled her index finger over his thigh where his shorts (not all that long to begin with) had ridden up when he sat down. "Sure. What are you gonna use your last one for?"

"Dunno. I wanted to do something with it this weekend, just didn't really know what."

"Paint me," Taylor told him jokingly, and Harry gave her a playful smile in return.

"Oh, I'd love to pin you to the wall, angel," he flirted, smirking as her first reaction was to kiss him. Seriously, he added, "Would you really want to sit for me like that? It takes a couple hours."

"Yeah, if you'd want me to."

His green eyes sparkled. "Course I do. I'd love to paint you."

"Anytime, babe."

As she turned her attention back to the television, Harry's mind swirled with creative possibility. His focus vanished, his eyes glazing over as he got lost in thought. Taylor didn't notice, not until five minutes or so later when he suddenly clicked his fingers.

"Have you got any candles?" he asked abruptly, and she looked at him questioningly as she gave a slow nod.

"Some scented ones, yeah. I think I've still got some tea lights left, too."

"Perfect," he said, nodding approvingly as she aided whatever idea had come to his mind. "Perfect lighting. Just need..." He looked off distractedly as he formulated his concept, Taylor glancing at him curiously. She had seen this look before and it always left her intrigued. She was a creative, too, yet she still wondered how his mind worked.

"Are you alright to do it now?" he finally thought to ask, resuming consciousness as he turned his head back to her. "You're not too tired or anything?"

"I think I can manage sitting still for a while," she agreed, not really wanting to ruin the spark he had suddenly gained, the very one she had lit.

"Perfect," he repeated. "Could you get the candles? I'll start setting up."

Taylor went in search of her candles, picking out all of her vanilla ones so as not to mix scents. She loved a good scented candle; they were a wonderful addition to a room. She always had some on hand, thanks to her love of perusing candle shops with their enticing smells.

With a bit of help, Harry transported into the bedroom with his box of paints and an array of different sized brushes. Taylor moved one of the dining chairs in for him to sit on, positioned by the edge of the bed. She got another for him to rest his things on, his paints and palette and cup of water. He set up his easel on yet another, wishing he had his larger free-standing one with him; it would've been much easier to set up. His 14x18 inch canvas would've sat nicer on it, too.

He directed her around to where he liked the candles to be positioned, moving some around as per his request. She switched off the remaining lights, letting the candlelight provide the perfect ambiance. Just how he was picturing it.

There was some deliberation with how he wanted her to pose, though. After requesting she change into black underwear, privately in another room, he got her to relax out, and as sexy as she looked lying on her bed, there was something not quite right, something not quite aligning with the vision in his head.

Tapping the end of a paintbrush on his chin, Harry contemplated it, getting her to shift a little to her left.

"Maybe I'm not the right model for this," Taylor began to think with the longer he took to debate the scene he'd created.

"No, no, no!" Harry was quick to reassure her. "It's not you, it's... I feel like something's missing? I don't know."

It wasn't that she was too tense. She had spent the day frolicking about in a bikini – she was fine sitting in her underwear with a (more than?) friend. Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to her: what if something wasn't missing, but rather there was something too much?

Taylor could scarcely believe the words leaving her mouth as she said, "Did you... Would it work better if I took this off?"

Harry was clearly taken aback by her suggestion as well. His eyes widened, brows rising, and he subtly glanced down at her chest. "I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I trust you," she said with certainty, the realisation of just how true it was hitting her as the words left her lips. She had trusted him from the very start – it had only grown over the weeks they had spent together. He hadn't given her a reason not to.

"Well, um, only if you're sure," he said, actually sounding a little nervous. "I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I don't." Sitting up, she reached behind her back, hesitating as her fingers found the clasp of her bra. Could she really do this?

"You're not going to show anyone, are you?" she needed to check.

"Not if you don't want me to," Harry promised. "It can just stay between us, if that would make you more comfortable."

"It would," she sighed in relief, glad he was as understanding as she hoped he would be.

With all the impulsive courage she was suddenly fuelled with, Taylor unhooked her bra before she had the chance to change her mind. She shrugged the straps off and tossed it across the bed out of the way.

The room filled with silence in the moment after. Taylor was trying not to think too hard about what was running through Harry's head, while Harry's breathing had hitched and he was struggling to focus on the reason she was topless in the first place. Their eyes locked, and a shy smile twitched at his lips.

"Is this better?" Taylor asked softly as she resumed her last pose leaning back against the pillows.

"You're fucking gorgeous," Harry blurted out, smile widening truthfully. He cursed again as he set his palette in his lap, beginning to sort out the paint colours he required.

Fucking gorgeous, huh? Taylor couldn't pretend she didn't like the sound of that. While he got himself ready, she friskily ran a hand over her bare breast, feeling the soft plump skin underneath. Harry noticed her movement and glanced up, face flushing and a paint tube slipping out of his grasp. He fumbled to catch it before it fell to the floor and rolled away, Taylor smirking a little. It was nice not to be the only one who was nervous.

It actually wasn't as awkward as she had always thought it would be. Once she settled into her quite comfortable pose, she was rather contented. The blankets were soft underneath her bare skin, and the temperature was perfect for lounging around in next to nothing. Harry's stare didn't terrify her, and as minutes passed, her concern slipped away; there was a very good chance she could fall asleep after all.

Harry started with a rough pencil sketch on the canvas, drafting his dimensions before he dipped a brush into paint. He tried his best to look at her artistically and not with the tremendous attraction that was pulsing inside him, though his gaze held an extra intensity that wasn't usually there that Taylor could pick up on even despite the distance between them. It was giving her the confidence she thought she needed, but in truth, she did want to strip down for him, whether in this setting or not. She wanted to give him everything she had, the feeling having multiplied ever since they had first kissed.

Harry's distraction didn't hinder his talent. Even with the temptation that was constantly coursing through him, he made meticulous brush strokes, taking care with the shades he mixed, occasionally spritzing his canvas with a little bottle of solvent to keep his acrylics workable. After years of painting, his hand knew exactly how to move, exactly how to create shape and shadow. How he managed to do so without perfect light, she hadn't any idea; even without seeing his progress, she was impressed.

After a half hour or so, Taylor was released to stretch – or rather, clean out the murky water in his cup and replace it with a fresh glass. As she went over to collect it, careful of the paintbrushes dipped inside ready to be rinsed, she couldn't help but notice the quite clear thick line in his shorts and the way Harry couldn't look at her as she got closer.

Taylor strutted out with a spring in her step, rather pleased with herself as she tipped the dirty water down the sink and refilled the cup, washing each of his brushes for him until the water ran clean.

When she walked back into her room within minutes, she almost dropped it all on the floorboards.

Holy shit. Harry was still sitting in the chair, only now with his hand in a rather compromising position. Because of her.

As soon as he realised she had returned, Harry froze. His face burned as she set his things back on the other chair, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would erase his poor decision not to wait or at least find privacy first. Undeterred, Taylor, moving behind him, ran her hands down his chest, not feeling the awkwardness he naturally assumed she must.

"'m not normally like this," he squeaked, struck with a fresh wave of embarrassment.

"Like what?" she asked, nuzzling against his neck as she detected his racing heart under her hand. She knew exactly what he meant.

"This," he replied desperately, mumbling, "'s not like class."

"What's different?"

"'m not normally so attracted to the model."

As his words settled, Taylor's hand dipped lower down his torso. She grabbed his wrist, overcome with a sense of power she hadn't had in a long time.

"Let me help," she purred in his ear, cheekily nipping his lobe. It earnt her a gentle groan reverberating in his throat.

"You don't have to."

"Would you rather I watch, then?"

Holy shit. Teasing Taylor had certainly come out to play, and poor sweet twenty-year-old Harry was rendered utterly helpless.

With surprising ease, Taylor tugged his wrist free and pulled him out of his boxers. She gave an airy gasp as she discovered every hard inch of his cock; she swiftly licked her palm and wrapped her hand around him, eagerly jerking him off without a second thought.

After a few moments of hearing his pleasured sounds at the instant contact, Taylor shuffled around, keeping her hand pumping as she dropped down on her knees beside his chair. She wanted him to look at her, wanted him to see her as she touched him.

Much to his frustration, Harry didn't last long. His face scrunched up the closer he got, his jaw dropping when she instinctively knew to lean forward and take him into her mouth. He moaned desperately, releasing within seconds of her lips enveloping him. Holy shit, Taylor could hardly believe she had gotten him that worked up.

Swallowing and licking her lips, Taylor smiled up at him as he calmed down, his wondrous expression when he finally met her eyes again absolutely thrilling her. She didn't think she'd given him much, but his amazed gaze was telling a different story.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly, yet she shook her head.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. Fuck, Tay. You're so..."

He couldn't seem to find an accurate description, and Taylor just smiled, giving him a long kiss before parting to resume her pose on the bed.

While she easily slipped back into their work, Harry was far less composed, fumbling around as he tucked himself back into his underwear and tried to figure out where he was up to. After staring between the canvas and the array of materials, he seemed to figure it out eventually, drying a medium-sized brush on an old paint-stained hand towel he'd had for years. He dipped the end into a blob of creamy paint and got back to work.

Perhaps a little disappointingly, Harry wasn't in need of a hand or a blow job every time he needed his water replaced. He seemed to have gotten a grip on his emotions since she had gotten a grip on his manhood, which was better for his art but not so much the slickness between Taylor's thighs. She found herself again lost in fantasy while he painted, quite enjoying the idea that he might return the favour any minute now.

"How're you feeling, love?" Harry asked her after quite some time, swishing a brush around in his water cup.

"I'm doing great," Taylor assured him, breaking into a smile at the interaction. "I'm pretty comfortable here."

"I'm glad." He didn't look so comfortable, fidgeting now and then thanks to his awkward leg, stuck out straight to one side, but he still never complained.

"How's it coming along?"

"Good. Not much left, I don't think. You sure you're alright? I know it's been ages."

They'd been in there for nearly two hours now, but it actually didn't feel that long. Harry easily lost track of time when he was immersed in a project, and Taylor had found peace in the quietness of it. It barely registered to her anymore that she was uncharacteristically almost completely naked, having slipped into a contented state of mind where she didn't so much care about Harry's judgment. After all, his thoughts had proved to be far from critical. This life drawing thing was rather nice, she realised.

"I'm good. Take as long as you want."

"As long as I want or as long as I need?" Harry asked, raising a brow as the left side of his lips quirked up.

Taylor's smile adopted his air of flirtation. "It might be more fun if you take as long as you need."

"Oh? Well I better hurry up then," he said, only half joking.

It was still a while later before Harry set a paintbrush aside for the last time. He tilted his head from side to side, critiquing his work until he was sure he was happy with it. Silently, he beckoned her over, and Taylor crawled off the bed and stood behind him.

For a moment, Taylor didn't believe it was really her. The woman lying in the painting was suggestive, sensual without being too overt. Her breasts were in plain sight, but it was rather modest. It was more of a nod to the beautiful natural shape of her body, which Harry had captured stunningly in the effective low light, perfect shadows highlighting and contrasting her curves.

There was something different about it compared to his other life drawings he had shown her, other than the obvious change of model. Taylor didn't quite realise it, but there was a lovingness that had guided Harry's brushstrokes. The way he looked at her like she was an angel walking among mere mortals had influenced the feel of the painting, a deep connection between artist and model that lingered within the paint itself.

As apprehensive as all this had initially made her, Taylor adored it. She adored Harry. The feelings she had for him suddenly overwhelmed her, and she turned his head to the side so she could kiss him, long and with more passion than he had been expecting.

"You like it?" he guessed, smiling brightly as their mouths parted.

"I love it," Taylor told him truthfully. "You're so talented. How did you even do all this in such a short amount of time?"

"Well, I'm not, like, super realistic," Harry tried to talk himself down, his paint-stroked index finger pointing toward the canvas in front of them as he explained. "See, proper portraitures would spend more time on the details, you know? Like, I could've done more on your face, but I like... Well, I'm not great at the realism thing."

"Are you kidding? Look at the detail in my hair," Taylor disputed, pointing over his shoulder at the painting too. Her untamed locks fell in tight messy curls that, somehow, Harry had managed to turn into authentic brushstrokes on the canvas.

"'s mainly just the shadows there," he shrugged a little, though it was much more than that. Care had gone into his work – it was blatantly obvious.

"Did you really add in freckles?" Stepping around his chair, she leaned in closer in front of him, and cautiously, Harry wrapped his arms around her and guided her down onto his lap. It was unexpected and she very nearly lost her balance, but she managed to settle without leaning too much on his cast or knocking anything over.

"I like the one on your neck," Harry said, his hand trailing up to ghost over the small dark spot above her collarbone.

"How could you even see that from here?"

"I couldn't really. I just knew where it was."

Twisting to look at him, Taylor smiled at him in awe. "So much for not doing detail."

"Well, I didn't say I didn't do any," he laughed. "So you like it?"

"I really do. You're incredible at drawing people."

"I love working with bodies. Especially women's." Reconsidering his words, he wrinkled his nose. "I don't mean that in, like, a sexual way. But women are much more beautifully shaped, you know? There's so much pressure for women to look perfect all the time, but I think... Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Who gives a shit if you don't have abs or big tits or whatever it is they're telling you you have to have? Every single woman I've drawn has been beautiful without being flawless.

"I'd love to do an exhibition like that one day. Just pictures of lots of different women, nothing on, just embracing raw beauty. Celebrating it, rather. I think we should be celebrating instead of trying to pick out things that supposedly need fixing."

Taylor was speechless. Not once had she heard a man speak about the matter with such... well, sense. In a world where objectification and harassment was disgustingly commonplace, it was an overwhelming relief to hear that there was still some good out there. Harry had clearly been raised well, and she sent a silent thank you to his parents for doing such a respectable job.

"That sounds incredible, Harry," Taylor said softly. "I can't wait to see it."

"It might never happen."

"I've got a good feeling it will." Kissing his appreciative smile, she lightly caressed his face. "Thank you for painting me so well."

"Thank you for being such an exceptional inspiration."

They kissed there for a short while before Taylor lifted off him, helping to clean up the things that really needed doing before they retreated to bed for the night. While she rinsed his brushes and his palette, Harry got up to stretch as best as he could, going to wash his stained fingers in the other sink. He packed away his paints and left her to return the dining chairs back to their usual place at the table, leaving the canvas to dry on the table, hoping neither of the cats would get up to any funny business during the night and mess it up.

Rather presumptuously, neither of them prepared for bed before they settled back on it. Harry, relaxed out on his back, was more than happy to have Taylor, still just in her little black panties, climb on top of him. She propped herself up above him, his arms wrapping around her lean body, and melted completely into the pleasant warmth of his mouth.

With the candles still alight, it was quite romantic. Their kisses were filled with the feelings they had pent up over the last few hours, sweet and sensual and brimming with unspoken promise. Taylor couldn't recall a time she had felt so... so utterly adored.

Hands roaming over her back, Taylor moaned into Harry's mouth as they soon circled around to find her breasts, his touch gentle as he explored her. She broke from his lips, arching her back as he paid her attention, thumbs rubbing over her hardened nipples.

Harry shifted as best he could to kiss her right breast, lips pressing over the pale flesh. Taylor shuffled further up to give him a better angle, gasping sharply as he sunk his teeth into her sensitive nipple. The soothing lap of his tongue helped ease the pain.

"'s okay?" Harry made sure, voice huskier than usual. With his warm breath tickling her skin and his hand still on her other breast, Taylor struggled to think of anything sexier.

"Perfect," she sighed, though she quickly tugged at his shirt. "Why are you still wearing this?"

"'ve been too busy thinking about you," he smiled, and god, did he know how to make a girl swoon.

Sitting up, Taylor helped Harry out of his clothes, careful with getting his shorts off over his cast. She smoothed her hands over his tattooed torso, tracing over the odd collection of drawings he had felt connected enough with to permanently mark on his body. She thumbed his own nipples in return, smiling as it had him biting down on his lip.

As she leaned back down on top of him, they kissed each other deeply for a long while, soft sounds and teasing tongues. Their skin was heated in every place it touched, and Taylor could feel the thrilling firmness of his arousal rubbing up against her, igniting more fire between her legs.

She could scarcely believe the effect she had on him. As she trailed her lips down his neck, daring to suck a dark bruise onto his skin, Harry made such a gorgeous don't stop moan that she couldn't help from sinking her teeth into the mark she'd produced, smirking at the hand that squeezed her ass as he repeated that sound more desperately. It had been such a long time since anyone had wanted her this way, and Taylor couldn't decide if she was more surprised by how much Harry wanted her or how much she wanted him. Her whole body was aching for him, dying to have him touch her in every place and have him nestled deep between her legs; Harry quite clearly wanted the same.

Both were shy to initiate it, though. Harry's fingers played meaningfully with the edges of her underwear, but he made no move to tug them down. Taylor was the first to say something, as unexpected as that seemed to her. She propped herself up, her lips bright red and swollen and longing to return to his identical pair.

"Did you... want to...?" she whispered, and Harry's face split into a wide grin.

"Yes," he exhaled excitedly, some of his enthusiasm dimming on realisation. "It's just... I, um. I don't have anything with me..."

His cheeks flushed with endearing nerves, and Taylor affectionately bumped the tip of her nose against his. "I'm on the pill," she softly reassured him, smiling at his obvious relief.

"And you're okay if we...?"

She nodded impulsively, her own anticipation multiplying. "It's just been a while for me, okay?"

"Me too," he quietly agreed, which came as a surprise. He was ridiculously attractive and could surely get any girl he wanted, but considering how flustered he sometimes got around her and how excited he was now, maybe he was telling the truth.

That only made her feel all the more special, and Taylor took great care in getting his underwear off over his cast, revelling at his admiring gaze as she slipped off her own.

"So beautiful," Harry murmured, taking her hand and kissing each of her knuckles. Her radiant smile matched his.

Slowly, Taylor sat down on him, involuntarily gasping as he filled her up. Harry rubbed his hands over her thighs, his touch soothing as she accustomed herself to the feeling of having a man inside her again, especially one of considerable size.

"Okay?" he checked, and she nodded, leaning back down to press her lips back to his.

Taylor took it slow, lazily moving herself on top of him. She rather preferred it that way; a romantic, she liked intimacy to make her feel loved, not just like another pretty girl to bed. She liked to have a real connection with the person she was with, and she couldn't keep pretending she didn't have strong feelings for Harry. She wouldn't be lying on top of him, softly moaning at the sensation of having him inside her, if she didn't.

Even if they were in switched positions, Harry in good health, she was sure he would take the same gentle care with her as she was taking now. He seemed so utterly pleasured lying underneath her, his hands caressing her in wondrous exploration. His sounds were low and honest, and he kissed her like he meant it with all his heart. Like she mattered to him, like he returned her feelings and more. She could feel it in every one of his touches, seeping into her veins and coursing an adoring warmth all through her body.

The intensity was more than she had been expecting. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, like they'd done this countless times before. Taylor was struck by how much she wanted to stay this way, in this moment of pure blissful connection. Harry's embrace was warm with an unanticipated sense of protection. To feel safe in such a vulnerable position was a grand relief.

With his hands on her ass, gently guiding her, Taylor needn't any warning of his growing climax. She was watching him, his eyes now squeezed shut and his brows pinched, soft moans escaping his parted pink lips. She could feel her own orgasm building (a perk of having control and being able to get it just how she liked it), and she brushed her lips over his, catching his bottom lip between her two in a desperate kiss.

Biting down on his lip almost had him tipping over the edge. Harry moaned louder in surprise, his hips bucking up. Taylor kissed him, nipped at his earlobe, down his neck, until he gripped too tightly on her hips and delightfully reminded her what it was like to make a man come.

She rode him through it, the friction enough to send her tumbling into ecstasy, the blissful moan that usually had no one to hear it now met by Harry wrapping his arms around her shaking figure as she finally released around his cock sitting deep inside her.

Together, they slowly regulated their beating hearts. Taylor pressed her forehead against his, smiling, and Harry tilted his chin to kiss her a couple more times.

"You're incredible," he whispered with the most adorable grin, and when she cupped his face and kissed him for much longer, soon feeling him harden again inside her, Taylor didn't think twice about starting to rock herself on top of him again.

By the time they prised themselves apart, both were tuckered out. Taylor knew better than to fall asleep in her contacts, though, and the burning candles dotted around were a fire hazard. With Harry's shirt pulled over her head and hanging loose on her slender frame, she tried not to take long with her nightly routine, letting Harry have his (much shorter) turn in the bathroom after her.

Taylor stifled a giggle as she watched him hop back into the bedroom on crutches, naked save the cast on his leg. It shouldn't really have been funny (probably it was just because she was tired), and if Harry noticed her amusement at such an odd sight to grace her bedroom, he made no complaint. He just climbed his awkward way into bed, grinning as she immediately tucked up under his arm, her head resting on his smooth chest and her eyes falling closed.

The steady beat of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest was unbelievably relaxing, and she was on the precipice of sleep when Harry eventually spoke again.

"Tay?" he whispered, and she merely hummed in response. "I think getting hit by that car was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

━━━━━━━━

When her alarm went off in the morning, Taylor wanted nothing more than to curl back up under Harry's arm and stay there all day.

The sound disturbed Harry, too, his eyes opening blearily and filling her with guilt when she noticed him stir beside him. It was early and there was no reason for him to be awake.

"Morning, angel," he sighed sleepily, reaching out to pull her back into his embrace. Over the course of the night, they hadn't strayed far from each other, and Taylor found herself longing to stay near him in wake.

"You can go back to sleep," she told him quietly, to which he hummed, tilting her chin up to give her a light kiss on her lips.

"Other things I'd rather do," he said, both smiling.

"I have to get ready for work."

"Can't you spare a couple minutes?"

"Nope."

Taylor kissed him once more, quickly slipping out from under his arm before they started anything neither would want to stop. She shuffled out the other side of the bed, deliberately staying out of Harry's reach so he couldn't catch her like she could tell he wanted to. His lazy gaze followed her as she walked out in nothing but his shirt, his admiration of her bare legs giving her quite the nice start to her day.

As usual, she tried to keep quiet as she went about getting ready for work. Feeding her cats and fixing something for herself, Taylor was appalled to find a reddish bruise on her collarbone when she went to the bathroom to wash her face. Damn Harry. She couldn't really complain when she knew she'd done worse to him, though, she supposed.

She was definitely sore. After abstaining for so long, one round would've sufficed, but she didn't regret spending longer with Harry. Even as she delicately touched the tenderness between her legs, testing the sensitivity, she didn't feel particularly inclined to wait out the ache.

Which, of course, was good news for Harry, whose hand was moving purposely under the sheets when Taylor returned to her bedroom to get dressed. She eyed him with a raised brow, and Harry gave her his delightful dimpled smile.

"You might not have time, but I've got nothing but it," he said fairly reasonably, yet she rolled her eyes, making her way to her closet. Despite the temperature, she would have to find something high cut. "How're you feeling, love?"

"I'm not about to say in the mood, if that's what you're asking," she replied dryly, though that wasn't exactly what her body was telling her. She plucked a striped sleeveless top out while Harry laughed behind her.

"Are you in the mood?" he teased, and when she didn't answer, he propped himself up on one elbow. Softer, he asked, "Are you okay, Tay?"

After finding a skirt to match, Taylor clutched the clothes to her chest, turning around to find Harry looking at her nervously. Smiling affectionately, she quickly nodded. "Much better than okay. Just, um, a bit sore."

"Sorry," he laughed a little apprehensively. "Sorry, I'm not trying to pressure you."

God, how had she managed to find such a genuinely sweet guy? Boys his age weren't supposed to be so thoughtful – boys her age weren't.

"I never said I didn't want to do anything..." Taylor said slowly.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "You kind of did."

Tossing her clothes onto a spare space on the bed, Taylor climbed up onto his lap and proved him wrong.

Despite the interruption, she managed to make it to work on time. Her thoughts were clouded with images of Harry, though, which wasn't perfect for her focus. She bunched pink roses and cymbidiums with the thought of the butterfly inked on Harry's chest and served customers with the lingering feeling of his lips on hers.

All evidence was neatly hidden, however, and no one questioned the extra spring in her step.

All but Selena. After Taylor's emergency text to meet up for lunch, she had two conclusions: everything with Harry had gone horribly wrong, or wonderfully, perfectly right.

At midday, both girls taking their lunch breaks simultaneously, they met up at a café halfway between their workplaces. While Taylor was dressed neat but casual, Selena had her hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing an office-appropriate blouse and pencil skirt. As a receptionist for a production company she hoped to move up the ranks in, she certainly looked the sophisticated part.

"I take it this is good news," she predicted when she arrived minutes after Taylor, slipping into the seat across from her after placing her order at the counter.

Taylor had chosen the most private table she could, right at the back, and she still glanced around covertly before she dared to speak, making sure no one around was listening. "IsleptwithHarry," she confessed in a rush, holding her head in her hands as Selena's eyes blew wide.

"Oh my god."

"I know."

Leaning in with instant curiosity, Selena lowered her voice for her friend's sake. "How was it?"

"Really good," Taylor admitted, her face beginning to burn. She wasn't the best at talking about her sex life; she was a much better listener. Giving details made her feel exposed, almost as much as taking her clothes off did. It didn't help that they were in public.

"How is he?" Selena asked with a meaningful wiggle of her eyebrows, jaw dropping as Taylor discreetly measured her fingers an impressive set of inches apart on the tabletop. "Tay! Shit, how are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling?"

They both giggled, and Taylor felt some of her awkwardness dissipate. This was Selena: she knew she could tell her anything.

And so she began to debrief what had happened after their beach trip, keeping her voice down and pausing altogether when a waitress dropped their lunches off at their table. They ate and gossiped and Taylor started to feel more grounded, less like she was in a fantasy land where guys like Harry actually wanted girls like her.

"I can't believe you actually did it," Selena said of her sitting for Harry's painting. "I mean, I had a feeling you might, but you're normally so private."

"I can't believe I did it either," Taylor agreed, shaking her head slightly. "It was just... spontaneous. I didn't realise I liked him that much."

Catching the unexpected flicker of seriousness cross her face, Selena frowned a little. "Why do I sense that something's bothering you?"

Taylor nibbled on her lip, twisting the ring on her right middle finger around absentmindedly. "It's just... I don't want to get too attached, you know?"

"Why not?"

"Well... it's not like it's going to last."

She hadn't wanted to start anything with him for that very reason, and now look at her: Taylor was torn between the excitement of a new flame and the weight of knowing it had an expiry date.

Selena, apparently, didn't share the same line of reason. "What gives you that idea?"

"The fact that he's going to be leaving me in a matter of weeks. He's not gonna have any reason to see me anymore."

"Aside from being crazy about you, you mean," the brunette replied obviously. "And you really think he's going to be able to go back to his normal life as soon as he gets the cast off? He's going to be stuck in physiotherapy, and in your apartment."

Okay, sure, that was probably true, but there was still a cynical part of her that was convinced Harry, just like every other boy, wouldn't stay.

"He doesn't just like you 'cause of circumstance," Selena assured her as if reading her mind, reaching across to touch Taylor's wrist comfortingly.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I saw how he looked at you. And you're a total catch, babe. You shouldn't worry so much."

"I think I'd have to re-hardwire my brain in order for that to happen," Taylor muttered, though she offered a smile again. "I know I'm overthinking it. I just don't want to get hurt. I don't even know what we are now."

"If it really bothers you, just be honest with him. Tell him you're not comfortable with casual hook ups. If he's a dick about it, then you can say you've dodged a bullet. And if he's not..."

"More dick?"

With her innocent tone contrasting her cheeky grin, the girls burst into inappropriate giggles. God, Taylor was glad to have a friend like Selena.

They soon parted with a hug and a promise to text later, as much as they would've preferred to continue hanging out instead. The rest of her shift wasn't too difficult; there wasn't much to do. Taylor felt better for talking things through, and she resolved to clear things up with Harry when she got home: she didn't want to be casual sex for him. She wanted to know where she stood with him. She needed to know what she meant to him.

After the voicemail he left her, she began to doubt it was all that much.

According to his message, he was working on something and needed an extra hour to himself to finish up. Apparently, now that she had let him between her legs, he thought it perfectly acceptable to ban her from coming home whenever she felt like it. Wow.

Trying her best to be understanding – he was probably painting and in the zone, disturbances unwelcome – Taylor took the chance to stop by the library, open late for nearby students. She meant to pick up some new books anyway, so it wasn't so bad. She just would've preferred to have gone without being kicked out of her own apartment first.

This wasn't doing Harry any favours. Rather, she was a tad pissed that he had the audacity to try to control her, just like any other self-entitled male. And here she had been thinking he was different. Hah.

She browsed the quiet library shelves and picked out a few novels, taking a comfortable chair in a relaxed sitting area and getting stuck into one. If she had to pass time, she figured she might as well enjoy it.

It was over an hour after she had clocked off by the time Taylor blinked back into the real world, checking out the mystery novels she couldn't get enough of. She stopped for gas on the way home, thinking she might just have a bath to unwind later, mess with Harry's head a little at the thought of her bare and untouchable.

Only, when she finally unlocked her door and stepped into her apartment, all that changed.

"What's all this?"

It was dark, aside from the candles flickering alight on the dining table. There were two places set across from each other – their usual spots. Both had empty wine glasses sitting on round coasters, and Harry was already sitting in the chair closest to her. At the sound of her arrival, he swivelled to smile at her, a mix of eagerness and nervousness, and it melted away each of Taylor's deprecating thoughts.

"Come sit down, love."

Too stunned to argue, Taylor slipped out of her heels and left her things on the floor, filling the seat across from him and letting him take her hands in his larger ones, remnants of paint stuck on his cuticles a permanent feature.

"How was your day?"

"Good," she replied automatically. "What is this?"

Eyes locked on hers, Harry released a deep breath, lightly squeezing her hands. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Like... a date." His cheeks flushed, dimples popping. "I, um. I thought you'd like dinner? I can't take you anywhere, but I thought I could bring it to you."

Oh my god. Oh my god, he was so fucking cute, Taylor thought she might cry.

"I really like you," he blurted out, as if he knew she'd had doubts. "I don't want you to think last night – and this morning," he grinned bashfully, "was just... I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of you.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked when she looked like she was about to burst into tears, his smile fading in fear he'd totally fucked all this up. Taylor shook her head, laughing a little, and quickly got up out of her seat and rounded over to kiss him. Her hands slipped out of his and cupped his face, kissing him with all the complete adoration she felt in that moment.

He hadn't been making use of her kindness. He had been planning a surprise. Oh god, he was as wonderful as he seemed.

"You didn't have to do this for me," Taylor said breathlessly.

"I wanted to," Harry grinned, tangling his fingers in her blonde locks. "I've got things keeping hot – just give me a minute. Did you want something to drink?"

"I'll get it," she insisted, kissing him again. "Are you having some wine with me?" she asked with a nod to the waiting glasses.

"If you don't mind the idea of the police bursting in and arresting you for serving a minor at any moment," he teased, making her laugh.

"I doubt that's going to happen."

"You never know."

"I think I'll take my chances."

While Taylor poured each of them glasses of red, wondering if he really did like wine or if he was just trying to seem more sophisticated, Harry started plating up the meal he'd prepared. It smelled delicious, and she had to wonder what he had managed to come up with on short notice with the ingredients on hand.

Once he was done, she came over to him to carry the plates over for him, sliding her arm around his waist as she checked out what they were having.

"Chicken cacciatoire," Harry announced proudly, the dish sounding even nicer in that accent of his.

"I'm impressed," Taylor smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

They settled at the table, toasting their glasses before tucking in. Whether it be from having to live on his own, Harry was actually a pretty good cook. The chicken breast he'd found in the freezer was cooked perfectly, tender pieces coated in a delicious tomato sauce on top of a bed of rice. It had Taylor thinking that perhaps she should get him in the kitchen more often.

"You can take me out, you know," Taylor let him know, smiling over a forkful of chicken.

"'s just a bit awkward when I'm like this, is all," Harry said, shrugging a little. If he thought she was embarrassed to be seen with him, he was nuts.

"There are plenty of places we can go. I'm not gonna not date you just 'cause you've got a broken leg."

His eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He looked rather striking, with the light falling perfectly across the handsome definitions of his face. He had a stray curl flopping down on his forehead, and she wondered if he knew how much he looked as much like a piece of art as any one of his drawings did.

"I gotta say though, I am loving all this," she added with a sweeping gesture to the decorated table. It had been so long since anyone had gone to this kind of effort for her, and her heart was swelled with affection and gratitude. She needed him to know how much it actually meant to her.

"Sorry I stopped you from coming home right away," Harry apologised, which she was thankful for too. "Time got away from me a bit. I just wanted to surprise you."

"I like surprises."

"Really?"

He sounded so hopeful and looked just as much, and Taylor happily took his hand that was resting on the table and kissed his fingers. The smile it brought to his face was more than worth it.

"I know where I'd like to take you," he said. "I'm sure you've already been, but I'd still like to go with you."

Intrigued, Taylor smiled back at him. "Are you going to tell me where it is or is it going to be another surprise?"

"Well, I don't suppose we can get there without you knowing," he laughed. "You know that old train station they turned into a garden?"

"High Line," she supplied, smile brightening. He was right: she had been there before. It had been one of the first places she had visited when she moved to the city. She loved it there, loved the atmosphere of such a thriving natural environment in what was otherwise a concrete jungle. And knowing that Harry listened to her and knew her well enough to know that it was somewhere she would want to go, well, she quite liked that too.

"I haven't been before, but there's no one else I'd rather go with."

"I think you'll love it," Taylor said genuinely. "There are some places I'd like to take you, too."

"Oh?" Now he was the curious one. "Do I get to know any of them?"

"Have you ever been to the Met?"

Harry's face lit up, and he tapped the prongs of his fork on the top of a piece of chicken eagerly. "No! You'd really take me?"

"Of course," Taylor laughed at his enthusiasm. "We should go into the city and make a day of it. There are so many cafés I'm sure you'd love, too."

Resting his hand over his heart theatrically, Harry's dimpled grin appeared a permanent fixture. "My angel. My absolute, fucking angel. How did I get so lucky?"

"Lucky? I don't think everyone would call you lucky."

"Not everyone is living with such a generous, beautiful, passionate, angel."

Taylor lightly kicked his good leg, unable to fight her own grin. "You have to stop calling me that."

"Never."

That was, actually, exactly what she wanted to hear.

Once they eventually finished up, having taken their time with their hearty meal, they cuddled up together on the couch, Taylor tucked nicely under Harry's arm. He kissed her fondly, still smiling down at her.

"You know I mean it, right?" he said, and she tilted her head slightly in curiosity. "I really fancy you. You're. . . you're my muse."

Resting her hand on his cheek, Taylor gave him a kiss full of tenderness, hoping he knew how easily she was completely falling for him.

━━━━━━━━

a quick note from samantha:

if you have made it all the way down here, you're amazing. this chapter has exactly 22,986 words. i'm on my laptop right now and it says it took 2 hours to read this whole chapter!

and this is the longest chapter i have ever came across, but it's haylor so no complaints. also, i'm
only updating 1 part today since it's a long one.

anyways, i hope you lovelies are liking these one shots & short stories so far!